sentenced to prison because he was implicated by being involved when it happened.
I was there when Lincoln graduated from a special education school— and as normal in his life his grandmother came late and missed it. His mother had been murdered years ago and his grandmother was his legal guardian. Lincoln was one of the first youth to be involved in our founding of the Precious Blood Center, located at that time at 47 th and Damen. He was also involved in a small street gang calling themselves Pimp Set on 49 th Place. When we moved the Center to our present location, he helped with the painting and setting things up. During his incarceration we stayed in touch. He had written to me that he was determined to turn his life around when he got out.
A year and a half ago he was released from prison and now at age 30 lives with his sister in a different neighborhood; his grandmother had passed during his time in prison. He got a decent job at a nursery and a few weeks ago told me that there were two 7-foot blue spruce trees the nursery would donate. With his help and some of our neighbors, the trees were delivered, holes dug, and trees planted in our peace garden all on one beautiful morning in the Back of the Yards neighborhood. That’ s the story of one of our youth, Lincoln, who turned his life around— and today he is alive.
Death and life at the Precious Blood Center have taught me that all blood is precious. As it pours out in our streets, it is precious. As it keeps one alive through prison to freedom, it is precious. As it pumps through a wounded mother’ s heart, it is precious. Even when it boil up in youth who live unruly, violent lives, it is still precious.
There I sat that Labor Day morning in our peace garden gazing at the statue of Mary holding the lifeless body of her son. I recalled Korry’ s mama Tawanda, looking through the glass window in the morgue to view her son’ s lifeless body. Two mothers in faith holding on, trusting that this is not the end of the story. In the shade of an uprooted and replanted living blue spruce reminding me of Lincoln’ s uprooted and replanted life, I could hold on and face that day and days that lie ahead like the never ending flow of trickling water. Our living and loving, even should we die, never comes to an end.
“ We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.”- Henri Nouwen W
Choir Camp, continued from page 3 surprised and a touch nervous. He had always been resistant to integrating into the group. His interests were often different from the kids around him and he preferred to keep to himself. So the evening came and he got on stage and sang a popular song. He insisted on audience participation and made sure everyone was included. The whole camp rallied behind this performance. They were singing and clapping and cheering him to succeed. In another community, I fear that this young man would have been faced with judgment and ridicule and would have been moved to the outskirts of society simply for being different.
As I reflect upon my ministry at Choir Camp through the lens of Precious Blood spirituality, one main theme comes to mind. We are called to minister to an everwidening circle with open arms and warm hospitality. We are called to treat each individual we meet as if they are already a member of our beloved community— loved, respected and trusted regardless of background. The definition of hospitality is“ the friendly reception and treatment of guests and strangers.” Opening our homes and lives to guests and strangers can be overwhelming and difficult. If you are like me, you think of all the things that must be done first such as cleaning and cooking. When it comes to camp, I think of all the packing and organizing that must be done first. But once I’ m there, we have the opportunity to receive almost 100 young people into our Beloved Community. They start as guests and strangers but become dear friends through Christ.
Whitney Houston reminded us thirty years ago:“ The children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.” I am blessed with the opportunity to teach young people about community and hospitality. About treating all people with respect— even the odd kid at school. Choir Camp helps both campers and staff believe in a community filled with love and equality, a place that truly welcomes those from the margins. I know this place exists. I am a Choir Camper. W
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October 2016 • The New Wine Press • 9